


Apple Pie

by raiyana



Series: The Reader Inserts [15]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Tumblr: ImaginexHobbit, also a pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 09:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Dwalin is a sweetheart, but sometimes he has a bit of the dumb, too... and sometimes ladies hear what we think the blokes say, instead of what the bloke thinks he said.for @everyjourneylove on Tumblr





	Apple Pie

“You’re starting to give me a bad name,” he grumbled, walking in the door of your hourse with a scowl on his face.

“Oh?” you replied, for a moment feeling the hated spear of your own inadequacy launch in perfect trajectory towards your heart.

“Mmhmm,” Dwalin hummed, nicking a slice of apple from your board. “Ever since we…” he blushed slightly, his eyes making a slight detour downwards to where his height gave him an excellent view of your breasts through the loosely tied neckline of your tunic.

“Ever since what?” you asked, one flour-dusty hand coming up to pull the cloth tighter together. Dwalin looked up at your tone, obviously unaware of the added meaning his words took on in your head.

“Ever since… well, you know…” he gestured vaguely in your direction. Your mood plummeted another 10 degrees. “Mahal, I’m saying this wrong,” Dwalin mumbled to himself.

“It depends on what _exactly_ you’re trying to say,” you hissed waspishly.

“Hey, now, lass,” he murmured, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. You tore yourself loose, sprinkling cinnamon and honey over your pie before bending to pop it into the oven. “C’mon, elskling, don’t…” Dwalin tried, but you didn’t let him stop you, stomping across the room and pulling out the shawl that needed mending.

“I’m quite aware what people think of me being with you, Dwalin,” you sighed, picking up your sewing basket, “I just didn’t think you _believed_ them.” Walking out of the door, holding your head high, you left the small house. Dwalin cursed.

 

Spreading your threads and fabrics around you, you blinked until the tears stopped pressing, the gentle trill of a lark in the tree behind you and the babbling brook beside you filling you with desperately needed solace. Leaning against the wide trunk of the tree, you made neat stitches in the worn knit; the shawl would last another season before you’d have to make a new one.

You heard the sound of a branch breaking underfoot, but you didn’t register what it meant at first, until the dwarf was already beside you.

“That’s not what I meant,” Dwalin claimed. You did not speak, focusing on the shawl in your hands. “Will ye at least look at me?” he asked, sounding small. You shot him a glance, then looked back at your sewing. Dwalin sighed. “I meant that Thorin and a few of the lads I spar with-” you did know those louts he called friends – usually you liked them well enough, but if even Dwalin’s friends were now against your relationship… you didn’t know what to do. “- well, they’ve been talking about making you take my spot in the Guard, on account of you always winning when we practice together,” he finished, his ears glowing. Your turned, staring at him. Dwalin’s gaze was focused on his knuckles.

“Do you want me to stop training with you?” you asked, mystified by the turn of the conversation. Dwalin breathed out a sigh of relief; he hadn’t expected you to answer. Then his blush intensified.

“No, lass,” he rumbled huskily, “no, I dinnae want tha’a all.” Tugging on one of the braids in your hair, he pulled you closer, leaning in to kiss your lips. “Only when ye attack me it makes me think of… _other things_ ,” he mumbled, his eyes darkening rapidly. Pushing your sewing off your lap, you moved swiftly, straddling him where he sat leaned against the trunk. Catching his wrists, you held them at his sides, sliding yourself closer on his lap.

“Like this?” you whispered, rocking slowly. Dwalin growled. His eyes closed as he breathed heavily through his nose.

“Mahal, lass, how’d’ye expect me to wan’ ter remove ye when ye’ve pin me down?” he groaned, his forearms flexing beneath your fingers. He could easily break your hold, you both knew it, just as he could win on the training ground… but he didn’t _want_ to. Leaning in, you kissed him, changing your angle slightly. “M’imnu Durin!” he cursed against your lips. Releasing his wrists to grip his shoulders, you sped up slightly, hissing out your pleasure when his hands moved to your hips, helping you keep the rhythm going the way you liked it. Snaking your tongue between his lips made him groan into your mouth, deepening the kiss with a passion that almost overwhelmed you.

“Dwalin,” you sighed, leaning into him as you chased your pleasure. One of his hands caressed up your spine, tangling in your hair again and pulling your head back. Dwalin’s teeth attacked the laces at your throat, making you moan when he began pressing biting kisses into your skin.

“D’ye kno’ how beautiful ye are right the noo?” he growled, the hand at your hip increasing your pressure against him as he dipped his head to mouth at your breast through your shirt. Fisting your hands in his hair, you pressed him closer, rewarded by the way his lips worried at your nipple, the spit-wet fabric providing just the right friction.

“Dwalin!” you gasped.

“Tha’s it, lassie, gimme yer pleasure,” he growled, biting down on one of your nipples. You screamed, exploding into a million pieces, held safely in his arms as Dwalin kept rocking your slowly back and forth, his hammer hot and hard beneath you, shooting sparks of white heat through your body on every pass. He let you come down slowly, his deep husky rumble humming through you with the speed of viscous honey… honey!

“The pie!” you gasped, sitting up straight and scrambling off Dwalin, running back towards the house.


End file.
